


Troubled Hearts

by Myth_is_a_Mirror



Category: Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Kidnapping, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24272908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myth_is_a_Mirror/pseuds/Myth_is_a_Mirror
Summary: Tora's kept his distance from Poppy for weeks, but he can't shake the feeling she isn't safe. One night everything goes wrong, and they find themselves on the run. *Inspired by LilyDusk's Patreon-exclusive image, Secret Garden #77*
Relationships: Tora/Poppy
Comments: 44
Kudos: 152
Collections: Secret Garden #77 Collaboration





	Troubled Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Song on Repeat: ["Lurk"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1aIxyNrping) by The Neighborhood
> 
> This is way angstier than I normally write, but the Secret Garden #77 image and Art_emis' fan art at the end really spoke to me. And while this is designed as a one-shot, it would lend itself to continuing if I felt like it.

“Piece of shit, shirt. Mother f%^#er!” 

I tear off my tank top and stuff it in the gym bag at my feet. And just to think, the day was going alright for once. After boxing club, I grabbed a bite to eat and relaxed into surveillance mode when my cheap ass strawberry juice box exploded on me.

I picked up the only shirt the corner store sold in my size. _What happens on Ares street stays on Ares Street_. Some dumb joke from the shop owner’s kid no doubt. Ares Street doesn't get tourists. The quality is garbage, but I wasn’t about to attract flies all night with this sugar-covered tank top.

Shirtless, I squat over my bag and freeze when a door opens.

 _Poppylan Wilkes_.

The sight of her always stops me cold. A red, floral dress hugs her perfect curves. The wind dances in her hair. She throws trash in the dumpster and dusts off her hands. Turning, her big eyes grow round when she catches sight of me.

Fuck.

Her lips part - the kissable, pink lips I dream about every night. We haven’t spoken in weeks, not since her fake relationship with Quincey ended. We haven’t had a real conversation in months. 

I played the asshole and avoided her at every turn.

Dating Quincey and amicably, but publicly, breaking up with him reset everything. She could walk around the city unharmed with unspoken Balthuman protection. I was gonna be respectful and keep my distance, but my gut told me she wasn’t safe yet. Even though I felt like a creepy peeping Tom, I loitered outside her place most nights just watching for trouble. And most nights I got to wondering if it was really my gut or my stupid, idiot heart playing tricks.

Her face plays out shock, hurt, then a spark of anger, all directed at me. I stand up, still half naked, and rub my hands down my chest, struggling to think of what to say. She hates me, rightly so. I shut her out.

Before either of us can speak, a cloth bag falls over her head and a man in a ski mask grabs her.

 _Like hell!_ I sprint toward them and take in every detail. Gloves and dress shoes aren’t typical of a street goon. I grab the man and drag him back behind the dumpster. He’s still got a hold of Poppy, and all I see is red. I tear his grip off of her and choke him with one hand against the wall. The other rips off his mask.

“You.” Cold sweeps through his body, muscle memory and purpose. “Of course, it’s you.”

Scharch.

The snake. The spider. The devil’s nightmare. Every nickname is still too grand for what he really is - trash. Dead man walking is all he is now.

Even when he thought Poppy dated Quincey, he talked shit about her, degrading names around the crew. But when they ended it, no one shoulda messed with her. Scharch wasn’t no one though. He was a fuckin’ moron. And killing him would be my pleasure.

“Surprise!” With bloodstained teeth, he shakes his hands in the air like a fuckin’ jazz danzer.

“No one touches her.” My voice is a growl. I could tear him apart. My fingers dig in until I hear a satisfying gurgle. “Poppy is under Balthuman protection. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Shoulda known you’d be railing this bitch now that Quincey’s done.” Coarse rope hangs out of his pocket, and my imagination runs wild with the plans he may have had for Poppy. Quiet, brutal plans knowing him.

Brutal I’d give him. Quiet I couldn’t promise.

“You’re dead psycho, but I’ll make it quick if you tell me why.”

“Dead, huh? Not today, big bro.” That stupid, evil smile almost distracts me from the hand lowering to grab his knife. 

It doesn’t distract Poppy. 

“I won’t let you hurt him!” She wrenches the weapon out of Scharch’s grip and it clatters to the pavement. Her hair is a mess but her eyes are straight from a fire-breathing dragon. I’ve never seen her angry, and it makes my rage take a step back. “Why are you doing this?”

I loosen the chokehold so he can answer, but he doesn’t even look at her. His smile is for me.

“That sweet pussy. She's a feisty sort, ya know?”

I tighten the chokehold.

“Dead. Dead. Dead.” I croon like a songbird.

His glassy eyes are a dark well. I see myself in the shimmering reflection. Obsessed. Murderous. Efficient. We’re alike, and it chills me. I don’t realize my grip tightens until Poppy puts her hand on my arm.

“Don’t kill him, Tora.”

 _Don’t be a monster_ is what I hear. All it takes is her calm demand, and my grip shifts to the sides of his throat to press against the veins carrying blood to his head. His blue eyes are a midnight storm, watching me with the same eerie calm I feel. Soft panting exhales from his nose match my own breath. Intimate violence, this I know. And then he’s out cold.

“Get your shit,” I insist as my hands tilt her head from side to side looking for injury until she wiggles away. “We’re out of here.”

“Out...where? My...I don’t have anything.” Her arms throw up to the sky. “I'm here to bring out the trash, until I saw you.” The question in her eyes - why were you there? - is one we don’t have time for.

“He had rope and a knife, Pops. He was gonna hurt you bad, maybe kill you. I’ve got no idea what’s going on, only that you’re not safe until I know more.”

“You!” She jabs my bare chest. “You can’t even stand to be around me anymore. What makes me safe with you?”

“You’re not fuckin’ safe with me.” I grip her by the arms, fingers tighten then loosen a couple times before my voice lowers, “Too bad I’m your only choice.” 

I let go of her and retreat, try to put space between us, but she grabs my hand and steps forward, confusion in her assessing gaze. She’s so close I can count every eyelash. There’s distrust in her gaze, but fire too. _My strong girl._

Poppy yelps and falls, twisting out of my grip before I can catch her. Scharch loops his forearm around her throat and scoots back, grasping for the knife just out of reach.

“Be cool. Don’t hurt her.” He presses against her windpipe, too dangerous. I throw up my hands and hunch forward in supplication. He inches closer to the blade, and I bark, “Don’t fuckin’ move another inch!”

He stops, surveying me with a tilt of his lips while Poppy’s face goes red from lack of air. Her arms flail, and I don’t understand why until I see her grab it. The Glock that fell out of my gym bag. She clicks off the safety, eyes bugging wide as her air is cut off, and twists, firing randomly behind her. The shot screeches off the dumpster.

A knife. A gun. My girl. It’s too much. I lunge forward to wrestle the weapon from her.

Scharch lets her go and goes for it too.

We both grab for the gun, fighting for purchase. My left hand wraps around the barrel, but he holds the grip. Unlucky for him, it’s pointed straight at his stomach. With my right hand, I reach between us and pull the trigger.

The muzzle is in the center of his gut when it fires, and rather than the usual crack of gunshot, it’s a thud. The warm spray of his blood spatters over my hands and my ribs. Scharch lets go, bleeding and gasping. Wild panic fills his eyes. Good.

I tuck the weapon into my waistband and stand, kicking him in the gut where the wound should be.

“Die mad, you sick fuck.” It was too close. Poppy could’ve been shot with that ridiculous gun wrestling. When he coughs, I kick again. “DIE!”

“Stop!” Poppy grabs my arm and pulls back. Blood stains her dress and her face is paper white. She was close enough to have blood spatter. My hands shake as I feel down her body for a wound. I’m numb, even though her fingers clench around my arm. “Just stop.”

I’m lost in the tragedy of her perfect eyes, under her spell like always. From the first day I saw her, I dragged her into this world when I could have found smarter ways to stay away. Why didn’t I get the journal without blackmailing her into dinner dates? Even a fake relationship with my best friend was preferable to letting her go. Leaving her alone is what I should have done. She deserves a quiet life in Moonbright, not crying and bloody in an alleyway. But she’s a little lamb, and I’ve always been the big, bad wolf.

Poppy reaches up, drags my face down, and kisses me softly. The roar in my ears and her warm honeyed scent is surreal. Like a home I forgot I had. _She’s distracting you from violence_ , my rational mind says, but the man in me doesn’t care. Her hands trail down my neck and bare chest, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake. It’s our first real kiss, light, chaste, and so sweet.

Everything but her fades away.

The salt from her tears wakes me up. I pull away and shake my head to clear the adrenaline and shock.

Scharch is gone.

“Fuck!” I’m back in bodyguard mode. The alley is too dirty to make out a blood trail. I throw on the ugly t-shirt and put my jacket over Poppy’s shoulders. “We gotta go. No time for your stuff.”

I tug her close by the waist, grab my bag, and rush away. We need a motel. No something nicer, a place I wouldn’t go where Scharch or his allies can’t find us. After hustling into the first open cab, I glare at the driver.

“Northside.”

He drives without question. Poppy’s shaking, so I put her on my lap and hug tight. The sight of my bloody hand on her bare leg makes me nauseous, so I look out the window. The warm press of her body is enough to keep me calm, and she’s smart enough to be quiet with the driver present. 

After a few minutes of silence, her breaths come more regular.

“We’re north now.” The driver looks back. “Anything more specific, sir?”

“Corner of K Street.” I have no clue where we are, but the streets are in alphabetical order.

The driver wouldn’t be hard to track down if there was a witness to our getaway, and I don’t want him knowing where we end up. When he stops, I toss him twice the fare and lean over to take a photo of his ID for insurance. He’s sweating, but I don’t care.

Walking fast, we'll stay on foot until I’m satisfied we’ve found a place random enough, safe enough. This alley is different than the last one, clean and better lit. Out of nowhere, Poppy digs in her heels and tugs at my shirt until I stop. I really look at her for the first time since I let Scharch get away. Gorgeous. Too distracting. Her cheeks are pink from keeping up with me, but her face is unreadable.

“The first snow, Tora.” Her voice is like the soft pluck of koto strings.

“Snow?” It’s then I feel it, snowflakes everywhere. The cold hits my cheeks, my eyelashes, and my hand as I raise it to cup her face.

“Make a wish.” She’s talking but kinda spaced out, not really with me yet. Maybe she needs a second to breathe. And even though this isn’t the time for woo-woo shit, Poppy is magic, and maybe magic is real.

“I wish you were safe.” I wipe away a tear. I want them all gone, forever.

“I wish you were, too,” she whispers.

 _Me? Safe?_ My heart is heavy and aching, weighing down my chest, but I croak out, “I gotta find a place to hide ya.”

I’m never safe, but she could be. I lift her in my arms because I need her on me, all over me. Around three more blocks, we find a small hotel. I check us in with one-word answers to the desk clerk and a full cash payment.

When the door to room 360 slams shut, I rush to open the curtains and check our surroundings. My shirt comes off, and I drop it with the bag on the floor. This place is nice but not too nice, a random location with little in the way of surveillance and no link to me in the neighborhood. 

“Ya ever been here before?” I turn and ask.

Poppy’s closer than I realized, dropping my jacket on the cheap, hotel bedspread.

“No.” Gently, she places her hand on the window, staring at the city lights. The slow, fat snowflakes outside seem at odds with tonight’s violence.

My hand slides over hers and I whisper, “Snow makes everything new.”

I heard that somewhere as a kid.

Seeing the blood on my knuckles, my trance breaks. I jerk away and stalk to the other side of the room. The closet and bathroom are empty, and I double check the deadbolt. With quick tugs, I drag the dresser against the door connecting our room with the neighbors. What I need now is information. Ronzo gets the first text with instructions to keep his head down and eyes open for Scharch or Martin’s men. I fill Quincey in next.

Cool metal slides against my stomach, and my gaze snaps up. 

Poppy pulled the gun from my waistband. The weapon of violence lays across her small palms. Her thumb rubs over the dried, bloodstained grip.

My heart is in my throat watching her look at it. Gentle as can be, I coax, “Give it back, please.”

“It’s my fault. You warned me Scharch was dangerous awhile ago, but I saw him roughing up a kid yesterday. My judgy mouth popped off, like I’m invincible or something."

My brave, stupid woman. Scharch really thought he could get away with hurting her, because she, what...inconvenienced his bullying? 

“He could’ve killed you, and it would’ve been my fault,” she continues as she glances at me, mind whirring by the way her eyes light up. “Scharch I understand. There’s something else I don’t.”

She holds the gun by the barrel in one trembling hand. I’m too scared to say anything, so I just lift my brows and edge closer.

“You pushed me away.” Her face cycles through anger, confusion, and sadness. This woman has too many emotions for this kinda life. It’s part of what I adore about her.

The gun shakes in her hand, and it’s makin’ me crazy.

“You made me believe you hated me," she says. "But why were you outside my building?”

I lunge forward, grab the gun and throw it on the floor, picking her up with one arm under her ass. This precious woman is safe, she’s here with me, and she never settles for a half answer. I’ve tried to explain it to myself, but there are no words that make sense other than the truth - I’m in love with her.

My lips cover hers, and I twist around to brace us against the nearby wall. With a gasp, her nails thread through my hair and around my shoulders where she holds on for dear life. Then, she kisses me back. 

This isn’t the soft kiss of shock in the alleyway but a claiming. I ravish her mouth. There's no way to get close enough. I want to consume her and see if she could survive. The way she licks and bites back at me, I know she could. Anything is possible with Poppy. When her ass knocks the bedside lamp sideways, it illuminates the room with a bright light on us and long shadows everywhere else.

There’s still blood on my hands and dark splotches on her dress.

Older memories threaten to choke me. My first kill. The dozens after that. Blood was the only constant. A sticky spatter. The taste of metal. It makes me sick every time.

“Look at me.” She tugs my head back by the hair. “I want you, and I don’t care about the blood.”

She should care, but my control is past the breaking point. She leans forward, mouth hungry for mine, but I want more. I have to meet the matching desperation in her eyes.

“Take off your clothes.” I drop her to stand and step back. “I can’t think straight with you in that bloody dress. I need to see…” I take a deep breath. “...you.”

Her lips part, chest heaving, and the buttons come undone. I can’t get my pants off quick enough, but refuse to take my eyes off of her. After months of wanting her, loving her, every lost moment is mine. There’s too much to make up for.

Her dress slides to the floor, and she kicks it away. Those delicate fingers unlatch her bra and push off her panties, revealing unblemished skin that glows in the harsh lamplight.

“You’re perfect. Safe. Alive.” My words make no sense. They’re a mantra I repeat for my own sanity.

“I’m fine, Tora. It’s his blood on my dress and his blood on you.” Her words are a spell. She takes one step forward. A virginal sacrifice for a monster.

I growl and grab her. We fall on the floor. Soft, warm legs open. I don’t deserve this. Her. A soft place to land. I was born for pain and cold, dark cells and nightmares.

“I love you.” She pants against my ear, repeating the words I’d only just admitted to myself, words better left unsaid. I pull at her hair and kiss her throat.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” I use my lips and tongue to stop the words I’m not ready for.

“I do.” She breaks away, gasping. “I-I can’t stop anymore. I tried for too long.”

My teeth grind together on a groaning exhale, but I can’t stop kissing her, licking her neck, or biting her soft, round breast.

The clean scent of her, that goddamn strawberry lip balm. I lean up on my elbows and grasp both sides of her face, fingers scratching along her scalp. Honesty comes out. “I can’t stop anymore either, sweetheart.”

Her tears take on a joyful gleam. A trembling smile shakes loose. “I’m sweetheart, again?”

“Always.” I kiss her again and again, breaking away only for air. “I love you so much it hurts, so much it doesn’t even feel like love, but something terrible. Why does it hurt so much?”

“Because you’re too far away.” She grasps and pulls me closer. Our bodies touch everywhere.

I pull nose to nose with soft pecks to her lips between an overdue explanation. “You asked why I was outside your place. I’m obsessed. I watch ya like a hawk. You should know that, and…” I try to lean back, but her nails dig into my back. A welcome sting. “Maybe you should be scared of me.”

“I’m alive because you cared enough to watch for me.” Tears stream down her face. I can’t stand the sight and brush them away. Her intense love pierces straight through me.

“I’m alive because of you too.” I pull back to my knees and drag her up with me, plastering her forehead to mine. My breaths saw out. I want her to be okay. I need her to know how strong she is. “You got the knife away from him. You lunged for the gun. But I’m really only alive, in my spirit, because I know you.”

“Y-you’re alive.” Her fingers trail up and down my face and neck as if checking me for vital signs.

No one ever cared for me like this, and as much as she’s still shaken, I’m afraid too. But my fear is older. Vulnerability has never felt this good. I sip at her lips. For once, the tinny taste of blood doesn’t disgust me. It reminds me. “We’re alive, sweetheart. And I’ll destroy anyone who threatens that again.”

“I believe you.” She rises up on her knees and rubs against my cock. Her slit is weeping, so wet and warm. She reaches down and notches me just at her entrance. “Make love to me, Tora.”

 _Make love?_ The soft demand undoes me, makes me afraid to move. I lick my lips and grip her hip gently. “I don’t know how. I need you to show me.”

Exhaling against my mouth on a fragrant sigh, she sinks down on me and shuts her eyes. So close, so tight together. I didn’t know joy like her existed. My hands fight from grasping too tight as she takes me, and I watch every beautiful micro-expression. The way her lashes tremble. The warm flush on her cheeks. The slight arch of her back under my hand when she reaches bottom.

When those huge, brown eyes open on me again, it’s like the world comes back to focus.

Full color. Every sense is alive. She’s black magic of the sweetest kind.

“I love you.” She repeats the words I never heard before tonight, never even believed were more than a fantasy. I help her move as gently as I can, trembling with the need to soothe the residual panic and months of restrained need. I want deeper.

“Everything I have is yours.” Promises spill from my lips. I push us back to the floor and pump into her, careful and long. Her mouth, her tits, her neck. I want to bite and kiss it all, forever. My thrusts reach farther, move faster as she pulls me close. “Right now, what I’ve got is nothing, but it’s yours. Everything I am. My whole heart.”

“That’s not nothing.” Tears still fill her eyes, but her gaze is clear and fierce. Her arms reach up and around my shoulder, digging into my scalp. I cup her precious head to hold her steady, sliding in and out, so full of each other we’re both gasping for the same breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” I bite her lip, and my free hand wipes the sweaty hair from her forehead.

She nods and crosses her ankles over my lower back, urging me on. One hand trails down my chest and stomach as she takes in my tattoos. Those are stories for another day.

“I want you to stay.” She pants, a hot tear sliding down her cheek. Poppy is courageous and true. She fights for what she deserves, and somehow she thinks that’s me. “Stay inside of me forever. This is where you belong.”

“I’m done keeping my distance.” The edge is so close. Pressure builds and buzzes at the base of my cock, kept off only by fucking her harder. She’s warm and alive beneath me.

Pumping fast and hard, her eyes roll back and tits shake through a full body tremor. I brace up on both arms, our skin slapping together with each deep thrust. After steady, long moments of fucking, I know she's close by the trembling. Leaning further down, I swallow her long moan with a kiss when she comes, clenching around me in a choking, chaotic rhythm. 

No one could survive her ecstasy.

I fuck her like the monster I am. Every soft part of her is made for me. After a few stuttering thrusts, her nails dig into my ass and she whispers my name. I let it all go - the violence, fear, and long months of heartache.

The room comes back into focus eventually after heavy breaths. I carry her to the shower, worried she’s got carpet burn. The place is a wreck. She’s in my arms the whole time, and when we sit on the bench seat under the gentle, warm spray of water, she inspects my hands. 

Carefully, she lathers up the soap and cleans me in silence. The dried blood on my hands melt away, down the drain. She scrubs at the red spatter I’d forgotten about on my side. Her fingers trace over the dragon koi and peonies on my chest, but travel straight to the Balthuman crest on my neck. My first tattoo was more dog collar than decoration.

She lifts up and kisses the curling, black design so sweetly it makes goosebumps prickle down my arms despite the steamy heat. Sitting back down on my lap, her thumb slides over the crude tattoo as she blinks past the water droplets that land on her lashes. She’s a butterfly in the summer rain, delicate and transforming. 

“Don’t pull away again, Tora,” she says. All ten fingers slide over my jaw and down my throat as I gulp past the emotion. “I don’t care about staying out of this world or being safe, if it means losing you. Stay with me.”

 _Stay with me_. Afraid I’ll cry like a baby, I pull her close against my chest. Her soft, pillowy flesh molds against my solid frame. One arm loops around her shoulders, the other on the round of her ass. She hugs around my back, fingers idly tracing the wet skin. 

I say the promise my heart made long ago, “I’m yours forever, sweetheart.”

My tears come then, but in the shower, with only my shaking exhales, I don’t feel ashamed. They’re tears of relief, months of heartache soothed. But frustration tightens in my chest. Our troubles are far from over. Hard decisions and compromises I could only begin to imagine crowd my mind. Even closing my eyes, curling closer over Poppy’s head, I see Scharch’s soulless eyes in my mind, so similar to the darkness in my own. If he isn’t dead, he will be soon. A rumble shakes out of me, and Poppy snuggles closer.

She’s the only loyalty I have anymore. I’m not the Balthuman’s dog anymore. I’m something more. In the light of her impossible love, I let go of the old me. He’s gone.

I’m her monster now.

**"Baptism" by[Art_emis](https://www.instagram.com/art_emisdraws).**

**Author's Note:**

> Follow [Art_emis](https://www.instagram.com/art_emisdraws) for more beautiful MPL and original art. If you like my stuff, subscribe here on AO3 or [follow me on twitter](https://twitter.com/mythisamirror) for updates and thirsty content. I’d love to hear from you in the comments :)
> 
> Standard disclaimer: Any similarity between this fan fiction and Midnight Poppy Land is due to being a super-fan who pays attention to details. Personally, I take no issue with any similarities that may arise as it would be a total coincidence or a good guess on my part. This is a fan fiction of LilyDusk's body of work, and she retains all rights to the characters and world.


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